


homecoming

by eg1701



Series: 90s reddie for the soul [7]
Category: IT (1990)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Reunions, i spent a long time googling late night shows on in 1990, literally none, this is historically accurate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:15:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25517131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eg1701/pseuds/eg1701
Summary: Richie gets home from a trip to New York. Eddie waited up for him.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: 90s reddie for the soul [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1800730
Comments: 12
Kudos: 82





	homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> there's...no plot to these but they're written to boost my own serotonin levels so i hope maybe you get something from them too

Even before Derry, Richie and insomnia were well acquainted.  


He’d seen practically every late night show, every early morning music video, every made for television movie they aired to cater mostly to people like him, unable to get to sleep and desperate to break the silence of their homes.  


It wasn’t so much that he didn’t like late night TV-- and he meant _late_ night, the kind of stuff that came on after midnight, when they didn’t care too much for viewership or rather they knew their viewership was significantly limited-- he thought it was fine, it was just not what he wanted, which was to be asleep.  


He could name almost any late night show by it’s theme song, any of the usual movies by a minute or so of it. It wasn’t really anything to brag about, but there was plenty of material there, to joke about if he ever needed something in an interview or for a bit.  


That’s how he knew what exactly was on the TV when he got home, just before three in the morning. He had been extra quiet on purpose, closing the door by hand and holding his suitcase up so it didn’t roll on the hardwood floor. Eddie had been sleeping lightly since 

Richie left, at least that’s what he said when they spoke on the phone the other day, and if he was asleep in the living room, he didn’t want to wake him up.  


He left it by the kitchen table along with his bag, and walked into the living room, following the sound of CBS playing the overnight news. It was his least favorite of the late late night shows, always too much information that late at night, but it didn’t surprise him that it’s what Eddie had decided on.  


“Howdy folks, Richie Tozier has entered the building,” he said quietly. There was one single light on in the room, the table lamp that Eddie had insisted on getting because reading in the dark wasn’t good for the eyes, and the lighting in there was bad when it got dark. That and the TV were the only sources of light in the room now.  


Eddie looked up, smiling sleepily at him. He had his head resting on one hand, propped up on the arm of the sofa. A copy of _Reader’s Digest_ sat open across the arm as well. 

Eddie read them until they were falling apart. He had apparently picked it up from his mother who, Eddie informed him recently, exclusively read them and nothing else.  


Richie thought that was easy to believe somehow. 

It was one of his habits that Richie was particularly fond of, despite the fact that he continued to be unable to stand reading it. He had given it a shot, but there was nothing there to catch his attention. His seat neighbor had been reading a copy during the first half of the flight, and Richie had been hit with a wave of homesickness.  


It was not an emotion he had felt until this trip. Usually he didn’t mind bouts of time away from LA.  


(Excluding Derry of course but that was a given.)  


He liked meeting new people and seeing new places and doing new things, away from the familiarity of California.  


“I didn’t hear you come in,” Eddie said, stifling a yawn. He was wearing his pajamas--which now consisted solely of t-shirts of Richie’s that he thought should probably have donated years ago and various flannel pajamas pants, regardless of the season, “How was your flight?”  


“Good,” Richie bent down to kiss him, “Why are you still up? It’s ungodly early. No one should be up at these unholy hours unless they’re at a party and so wasted you can’t stand up straight.”  


“Couldn’t sleep. I was worried about your flight getting in so I thought I’d give this television thing a try. You seem to like it,” Eddie yawned again, “You tired?”  


“Yeah,” Richie said, “come to bed now huh.”  


“I suppose so, now that you’re home and I can turn off the news. I thought that if the plane _did_ crash it would come across,” he got up and flipped off the TV, the silence was somehow louder than the steady noise of the news. He came over to greet Richie fully, standing up on his toes to kiss him, one hand on the back of his neck to lower his head.  


“What a greeting. I ought to go outta town more often if this is what I come back to.”  


“I missed you,” Eddie said quietly, “Missed your stupid face I guess. And I know you put the new cereal box on the top shelf so I couldn't reach it to ensure that I would miss you.”  


“Oh thanks.”  


Eddie laughed, clearly pleased with himself, “Come on you. Bed time. You look tired. Did you sleep on the plane like I told you to this morning?”  


He led Richie out of the living room and down the hall by the hand. Richie let him.  


“Not really,” Richie said, “It was bumpy.”  


“Oh,” Eddie said softly, frowning with worry, “Are you ok?”  


“I’m fine Spaghetti Man,” Richie replied, as they headed up the stairs to the bedroom. 

Richie felt like dead weight, his legs heavy under him from the long flight and longer layovers.  


Eddie opened the door, and Richied headed to the bathroom to freshen up briefly, hoping the cold water would keep him awake long enough to make it to ved. He really was dead on his feet, but the thought of jumping into bed and sleeping next to Eddie for the first time in several weeks was _glorious_.  


New York had been strange, sleeping in the squeaky hotel bed and staring at the boring ceiling in silence. The first night he couldn’t figure out what was wrong. It was not the worst mattress he’d ever slept on. He was tired enough to sleep, and the room was high enough that the noises of the street weren’t too loud-- and LA wasn’t exactly a quiet city anyway.  


It was, he realized at lunch the next day, the lack of breathing next to him. Eddie’s light snores when he slept on his back. The weight of another person in the bed. He’d gotten used to another person sleeping in bed with him, something that had at one time been inconsistent at best. And they were usually gone by the morning anyway.  


What a damn sap he’d turned into. Eddie was right. He was a big old sap. He couldn't even try to deny it now.  


It was sort of nice.  


He flipped the bathroom light back off, walked over to the bed and flopped down. He heard Eddie laugh, and felt him pull the covers up over him.  


“I forgot I didn’t like sleeping alone anymore,” Richie muttered, “Plus that hotel was terrible Eds.”  


"I heard. Several times actually, I think you just like to complain. Sleep honey, it’s late and you’re running on New York time, meaning you haven’t slept at all. You know how important sleep is.”  


“You do tell me that,” he said, yawning himself now. He rolled over to face Eddie, who fit himself in Richie’s arms, the place he liked sleeping the most, “Hey Eds?”  


“Hmm?”  


“It’s good to be home.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks as always! love to hear what you'd like to read so feel free to comment or message me on the tumblr!


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